The last supper: The unbearably haunting picture of a father surrounded by his loving family the night before he killed himself at Dignitas clinic

To the casual observer, they must have seemed like all the other families dining in the elegant riverside restaurant in Zurich that night.

Laughing and joking, a strikingly attractive woman was evidently revelling in the company of her sister, mother and father as they ate risotto and shared a bottle of wine.

Throughout that cool, clear August evening in 2006, the family enjoyed animated conversation before sharing a late-night gin and tonic. So far so ordinary, except for one extraordinary detail: they all knew this would be their last meal together.

Poignant farewell: John Huff, his wife Barbara and daughters Dianne, far left, and Joanne share a last supper the night before he killed himself at the Dignitas clinic

The man at the head of the table, John Huff, was to die the next day - having booked himself into the infamous Dignitas assisted suicide clinic in the city.

Even more extraordinary were the very mixed emotions around that table: John, debilitated by Motor Neurone Disease (MND), was facing his imminent death with optimism; his daughters Dianne and Joanne, who, at his request, had made the necessary arrangements, were pleased that their father was so certain about the choice he had made.

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But Barbara, John's devoted wife of 30 years, and the mother of his two daughters, felt very differently.

She was consumed with hope that the husband she adored would change his mind and return home with her. Sadly, she was not to get her wish.

As Barbara says today: 'I felt incredibly sad about what was going to happen and kept hoping John wouldn't go through with it. I knew he only had another six months to live anyway, but I wanted him with me for as long as possible.

'It was selfish but I had even hoped his illness would progress more quickly so he wouldn't have been well enough to travel to Switzerland.

'When Dignitas was first mentioned by him, I blocked it out and kept quiet. My daughters arranged things for John, but I could not take part.

'Inside I kept hoping and praying it wouldn't come to that. But ultimately it did. That was what he wanted and he stuck to that.'

It was almost four years ago that John made his choice - after which his family took the controversial decision to accompany him to the Zurich clinic, thus running the risk of prosecution when they returned to Britain.

John Huff pictured with his wife and daughters. John was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease in 2005

While Dianne remains convinced that she did the right thing by her father, many people will feel it is fundamentally wrong to seek to end the life of any sentient person, however ill they may be.

'It obviously isn't a scenario you ever imagine yourself in,' says Dianne, a 30-year-old learning and development officer from South London.

'Before Dad mentioned Dignitas I'd never even heard of it. But I didn't think twice when he asked me to arrange things; I loved him so much and believed it was his right to choose.'

Asking his daughter for help was one of the last things John was able to do. The disease had wasted his body. Already struggling to speak, he knew it wouldn't be long before he completely lost the ability to communicate.

'Seeing Dad's reaction when we arrived in Zurich just confirmed it was the right route for him,' says Dianne. 'He was pleased he would no longer be waking up in a useless body. He could end his life the way he wanted.'

Well, almost. The lingering regret for Dianne is that her father wasn't able to die at home because of his fear that she would be prosecuted for helping him commit suicide.

Dianne had never considered such moral conundrums until the summer of 2002, when her then 54-year-old father, a gardener, started showing signs of MND. It began with an angry outburst over something trivial.

'It was really out of character as he was usually very calm,' says Dianne. 'It transpired he'd been bottling up stress because he knew something was wrong, but hadn't told anyone - he couldn't even write any more.

Dianne Huff, pictured here in 2004, took her father, John, to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland to die

'His speech was slowing, and there would be huge extremes of behaviour: laughing his head off one moment, crying his eyes out the next.'

In late 2005, after a two-week spell of tests, John was finally diagnosed with MND. He was given two years to live. 'Hearing someone you love is going to die is a terrible shock,' says Dianne, who then moved in with her parents, along with her elder sister.

'The illness progressed with terrifying speed. Week by week, he got worse. MND affects every muscle in the body and the nervous system - everything.

'Soon he could barely speak, struggled to swallow, couldn't use his arms and had to be supported whenever he walked - he refused a wheelchair. We were always on edge, ready to take action if he choked or fell.'

The change in the healthy, fit father she knew was heartbreaking. 'Dad had been very active and able. Now, suddenly, he needed constant help.'

It was just a few weeks after he was diagnosed that John first mentioned assisted suicide to his daughters. He had seen an article about Dignitas and asked them to find out more.

Receiving such a chilling request from a parent might be more than most could bear. But Dianne claims that was not the case for her.

'I actually don't remember feeling shocked,' she says. 'I somehow knew it was right for him. We have no brothers, so he was very much the man of the family and male pride is a powerful thing. He hated being looked after.'

She feels no guilt about her actions. 'Ultimately Dad was going to die anyway - so he could die sooner, in a more pleasant way, or wait for an agonising death from MND.'

So Dianne began the long process of applying to Dignitas - from paying the registration fee through to completing each painstaking stage of the paperwork necessary for approval.

Dianne pictured aged three in 1982 with sister Joanne and father John, who was given two years to live following his diagnosis

'It is all very businesslike and that's what got us through,' she says.

But Dianne's mother was uncomfortable. 'From the start she was clearly against it,' says Dianne. 'Not because she doesn't agree with assisted suicide but because romantic love is more selfish: you want your partner to be there whatever. They'd been married for 30 years.'

Barbara implored John to consider palliative care and, in June 2006, the family met with staff at the hospice he visited each Friday.

Barbara says: 'We talked about his decision a lot so he knew how I felt and tried to go along with the respite plans for my sake. But he never wanted it to end that way. I usually got my own way in our relationship but not in this instance.'

John told doctors his mind was made up. Dianne says: 'Mum felt better knowing he'd considered an alternative ending, so after that she reluctantly supported his choice.'

John underwent speech therapy and physiotherapy to prove to Dignitas that he had tried other routes to make his life more liveable.

In August 2006, five months after their original application, Dignitas - which charges about £4,000 for suicide assistance - gave Dianne what they call the 'green light' to book an appointment.

'Dad was really pleased when I told him and wanted it booked immediately,' she recalls. 'By then it was a race against time, because you have to be able to make the journey to Switzerland and swallow the barbiturates they provide by yourself - another week and Dad would have been too ill.'

Dianne then faced the task of booking a date for her father's death. 'It was very strange,' she admits, 'knowing what was going to happen, but I just concentrated on arranging everything, packing and booking flights.'

It was just a few weeks after he was diagnosed that John first mentioned assisted suicide to his daughters

John's siblings visited to say goodbye, as did two close friends.

'There were many tears, but everyone agreed we were doing the right thing because they knew Dad. You can't disagree with something like this unless you've experienced that illness.

'Dad didn't want everyone knowing what he was doing, so we just told one neighbour, who could then inform other people while we were away.'

The day before their flight, John gathered his family together.

'He thanked us for what we were doing, told us that he loved us and that we should look after each other when he was gone. It was very emotional, especially as he wasn't a sentimental man.

'For him to say all those things must have been difficult - more so because of his speech difficulties. But he was determined to say those words.'

I remember them saying to Dad 'Have a pleasant journey into the next life', which made me very emotional

Dianne, her mother, father and sister left early next day. 'I wondered what was going through Dad's mind, leaving his house for the last time. If he was upset it didn't show.

'If he'd got upset it would have been harder for us; he was very strong. We all had to be strong because this was something we had to do. We could hardly arrive at Dignitas in floods of tears.'

Characteristically, John insisted on walking onto the plane. 'I remember him being very quiet on board - but from the moment we landed, it was as if a weight had lifted off his shoulders.'

That evening, they shared their last dinner. The following morning they all took a taxi to the Dignitas office, where they met the founder and other officials who ensured all was in order.

'Back in 2006, assisted suicide was a taboo subject which nobody spoke about, so it was only there that what we were doing was normal.

'I remember them saying to Dad "Have a pleasant journey into the next life", which made me very emotional.'

The family was taken by minibus to an apartment, where they were met by an assistant. Inside the sparsely furnished flat was a bed, a table and chairs, and some food and drink.

'It was really surprising because it was not at all clinical. The staff were helpful, telling us to sit down, that we had all the time in the world, and that if we didn't want to go ahead, we could change our minds.'

John Huff killed himself at the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland accompanied by his family

Dianne's father was first given a liquid cocktail of drugs to stop him being sick - and to prove he was able to swallow. Then the assistant mixed barbiturates in a glass and explained that when the mixture was clear it was ready to drink.

You would think that as their father prepared for the moment when his life would end, his family would be desperately solemn.

Yet Dianne recalls how her sister Joanne, who is two years older than her, helped to alleviate the tension. 'She was really chatty, eating chocolate cake and trying to make light of it all, which helped me through.

'Dad was smiling quietly and Mum was fussing around him. She asked if he was sure about what he was doing, and he said he was.

'I wasn't watching the liquid run clear, but Dad obviously was, because as soon as it was he said: "It's ready." He didn't want to hang around; he just wanted to die. The assistant said: "I think someone's in a rush, Mr Huff, am I right?" and Dad nodded.'

At that point, he was moved to the bed where a video camera was set up to record him drinking - this proves legally that he took the drugs himself without coercion. The assistant held the cup and put the straw to his mouth, which he then drank from.

Barbara says: 'My last words to him were: "Are you really sure you want to do this?" I never stopped hoping he would return home with us. But when he drank the liquid I just held his hand and stroked the skin until I was told he'd passed away.'

'It was over really, really quickly,' says Dianne. 'I told him I loved him and said: "You can do it, Dad," then literally seconds later his eyes closed and he entered a coma. He was pronounced dead 25 minutes later.'

The assistant called the police, who came to look at the family's paperwork, examine the body and watch the film of John's last moments.

'I felt numb because the police were there and talking in a different language. We'd been told they may want to question us but you don't care, you just want to be left to grieve.

'Of course we cried afterwards. For us, the greater pain had come earlier, watching the deterioration of someone we loved, seeing the frustration in their eyes at what was happening to their body. We did a lot of crying then.

Sitting next to an empty plane seat was awful - we'd bought Dad a return ticket just in case he changed his mind

'His death brought a different kind of upset. For most people death brings devastation, whereas for us the devastating part had been before he died.'

John's body was cremated, and the three women flew back to Britain two days later.

'Sitting next to an empty plane seat was awful - we'd bought Dad a return ticket just in case he changed his mind,' says Dianne.

'I checked us in at the airport, because I feared they'd ask about the other passenger, and Mum would have broken down. Thankfully they didn't ask anything further.'

Barbara found the journey incredibly difficult: 'I was in a dream really - just walking around in a daze; I couldn't believe it had happened. I still can't believe that really happened to us. Going home without him was awful. It was so hard coming back with just his luggage.'

Back at home in Essex, a memorial service was arranged for a month later, in case the death brought legal problems. But the Huffs escaped the attention of the police.

Indeed, no prosecutions have ever been brought in any of the 115 instances in which a relative has helped a Briton to die at the Dignitas clinic.

Despite this, Debbie Purdy and fellow right-to-die campaigners felt the need to fight for a clarification of the exact set of circumstances under which a person can be prosecuted for helping a relative to kill themselves.

The Director of Public Prosecutions recently created six factors which would mitigate against a prosecution for assisting the suicide of another.

So how does Dianne's family feel today? Do they all live with the regret that they hastened his end? Dianne insists not and says they have received nothing but support for what they did.

'When we got home there were already lots of cards from friends and neighbours, and the memorial service was absolutely packed. He was a very well-loved man,' she says.

Whatever the arguments, Dianne insists she acted out of love for her father. But her actions will not sit easily with everyone.

'People tell me it's an amazing thing to have done for someone, and seeing how happy it made my dad, I can only agree,' she says. 'I'm just so glad we were able to help him as we did; it would have been horrendous for him to go through more suffering.'

No one would wish that, but it's hard to imagine that even such an impassioned testimony as Dianne's will convince the doubters that assisted suicide can ever be a force for good.

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The last supper: The unbearably haunting picture of the father surrounded by his loving family the night before he killed himself at Dignitas clinic